The Blacksmith (Foxworth Stud Ranch Book 2)

by Mia Madison

He steps back and pulls the door closed but not before I hear a couple of jocular laughs from the boys, no doubt amazed to discover me in a compromising situation with the best looking girl in town. I ain't never gonna hear the end of this but I don't give a shit. They head back to their own rooms and I look down at Edie, her eyes filled with soft desire.

  “I should take you home.”

  Chapter ELEVEN

  Edie

  “I don't want to go home,” I say, very quietly.

  It's not like me at all, the girl that normally has no problem announcing what she wants and telling people what to do. Bossy, they call me sometimes. But how else do you run a bar full of hunky cowboys without being a bit of a tough nut yourself?

  “Are you afraid, Baby?” Quint asks.

  When he calls me that a shiver runs along the lining of my skin. It could be just a friendly nickname. I mean, even the guy at the corner store will call you 'Baby' on occasion. Just to be friendly. I wish I could ask Quint outright whether he thinks of me as his baby now. Whether something's shifted after our close call.

  But I don't dare.

  I want to know the truth but I can't take the truth. What if hes a killer? Worse, what if he's just being kind? We had the most intense kiss of my life and now he wants to send me home? Why doesn't he throw me down on the floor and tear my clothes off. That's what I want and I don't get why he doesn't want the same. He can't have gone back to the friend zone. Now when I felt that solid bolt of burning steel pressing into my spine. I know he wants me too. Or wanted me, until Shea and the others busted in on us with all their macho jocularity.

  “If you don't want to be alone -” he starts and I interject, completely distracted by his bared muscular form.

  The taut defined V disappearing into the towel that he's managed to rearrange so as to be almost decent. Almost. There still a tent shifting there. From those narrow hips, his torso splays out to shoulders that are bristling with power. There is no way in hell I can think of Quint as a friend right now.

  “I'm not afraid,” I tell him.

  “Edie,” he grits out, his voice raw with feral need.

  “What?” Mine is filled with defiance.

  “You can't stay here.”

  I wasn't expecting that.

  “Fine.”

  I grab the door handle and tug it back but Quint's hand slams flat against it so it cracks back into the frame.

  “You can't stay here because it isn't safe, Babe. Remember a shot just went flying past an inch from that beautiful head? You think I'm going to sleep one minute knowing you could be in danger?”

  “I said I'm not afraid. And who said anything abut sleeping?”

  “Baby,” he rasps. “The guys will never let you live it down. You have a reputation in town. I wont let you ruin it for me.”

  “What if I want to ruin it? You think I can't handle Rafe's teasing?”

  “Babe, think about what you're wanting.”

  “Are you saying that because you regret kissing me?”

  “Jesus, no. How could you imagine that? You have no idea the things I want to do to your gorgeous body but I want you to be safe. And happy.”

  “Then make me happy.”

  Quint's gaze plunges into mine and holds me captured like a slave. For an instant he seems like he might falter.

  “I'm taking you home.”

  He takes off across the living room. The large stone fireplace looks inviting and has a beautiful guard crafted by Quint, of course. He goes into another room, which must be where he sleeps. I can't believe he's pulled away from me and dismissed me after that kiss.

  Did he not feel what passed between us? I suck my lower lip into my mouth, thinking about what's happening here. As soon as I do, the memory pops up of how Quint sucked it into his mouth, teasing and toying at the bulbous flesh with his tongue. How he inhaled deeply though his nostrils as though he was breathing in my aroma. How our breath entwined the same as our bodies. Quint resting his forehead on mine and just breathing against my lips was the sexiest thing I've ever done.

  He comes out of his room in a black tee, stretched tight across his strapping chest and a pair of low-slung loose black jeans with a studded belt that he's tugging in as he walks, make that strides, across the floor. His boots clack on the floor with a dominance that says he's always in charge. A throb picks up again between my thighs. I do not want to go home to my apartment but I don't get the chance to tell him.

  “We'll talk about this on the way,” he announces as he pulls the door open.

  He presses his hand into my lower back to guide me through the opening, then reaches for my hand to restrain me. He holds me behind him and steps out first, pulling me in and shielding me in case the marksman is lying in wait.

  Then he leads me across the yard and at the passenger door to his big black truck, he throws a glance back over his shoulder. He pulls me in front of his chest, using it as a shield for my body. I shiver all the way down from the way he's caging me in with his wide ripped torso, ready to take a bullet for me if it comes to it.

  “Are you cold, Baby?”

  Baby.

  The word is hardly out of his mouth when I reach up to take his roughly stubbled cheeks in my palms and drag his mouth down onto mine. His heavy hands clasp my waist and tug me hard into him. I'd gasp, except Quint doesn't kiss so much as ravage my mouth. His tongue daggers into me so that the sensation of that transfers lower. Throbbing pulsations start there, deep inside and I moan into his mouth, imagining how it would feel to have his tongue exploring that forgotten part of me.

  His hand comes up to cup my cheek then his fingers crawl through my hair and cup my head to deepen the kiss. The other hand still clasps my waist firmly, feeling like it's completely encircling me finger to thumb, holding me immobile as he devours me with his expert tongue.

  I moan again and arch my spine under his hard palm so my tits press into his chest. That small move on my part only makes Quint into more of a wild man. He wraps my hair around his fist and tugs so my head tips back. Then he trails kisses, hard and wild, down my neck into the opening of my shirt. My nipples are swollen so hard they must be digging out through the plaid.

  I need his mouth sucking those points between his lips. The desire swirling around in my breasts is directing hungry pressure at the tips, making them ache with need. I turn my head from side to side, moaning with the lust pushing at my edges and threatening to drive me completely insane.

  But Quint's fist still ropes my hair and he tugs firmly, holding me still, arching me, tipping me, exposing me. This man could ravage me like no other ever has.

  His mouth moves over the swell of my breast and bites the nipple through the thick fabric, hard enough to make me gasp.

  “I want you,” I moan, my hands gripping the huge swell of his bicep and digging in. I don't get much purchase on the hard muscle though. It's like clawing at a slab of rock.

  Quint lifts me up onto the seat like he's picking up a little girl. I've never felt so small and light. I open my legs ready to pull him into me but with one last kiss he presses my legs together and swivels them into the well. Then he closes the door and strides around to the other side, not rushing, not looking timidly all around. Either he doesn't give a shit or more likely, he won't allow anyone the satisfaction of seeing him cringe. I can't imagine Quint cowering for anyone.

  Chapter TWELVE

  Quint

  It takes every last drop of willpower and them some, to control my animalistic urge to tear the clothes from Edie's gorgeous body, throw her down on the flatbed of my truck and make her scream and howl my name. The way she thrashes her head when I'm biting her swollen hard nipple, I know how desperately she wants me too. But this is insane. This hunger is a reaction to coming close to death, facing it and enduring is making us into a pair of demonic lust driven beasts.

  I can't take advantage of her like that. She's my only friend, or was until I discovered Shea and the others have warm and fuzzy feeling
s toward me. That came as a surprise. From all the teasing, I figured they found me a bit of an odd ball and an outcast. I guess you never really know what other people think of you. Not until the chips go down.

  And they've fallen now, that's for sure. I've got decisions to make but most important right now is to take care of Edie. I don't want her harmed, not one soft hair on her beautiful head, and I don't want her mixed up in this. She's not going to become my collateral damage in a situation she didn't create. I know those Russians bastards would have no problem at all with using her to get to me.

  “How did they get you to do it?” she asks, after we've driven down the long straight road that leads between the ranch and the main blacktop. “Make the weapons?”

  I guess that long silence saw her thinking and reconsidering what she's asking to get herself into and she's reaching the conclusion that it's a very bad idea.

  “I wasn't thinking about weapons at first. My ego allowed me to believe that gangster oligarch actually wanted artwork for the walls of his mansion,” I say ruefully. Now I wish I'd claimed Edie's body when I had the chance. Before her regret set in as expected.

  But her small hand reaches across and her hand rests on the edge of my seat so her fingertips graze my thigh. Before I can stop myself I reach down for her hand and lift it to my lips. She doesn't pull away. Her fingers rest and stroke on my lip as I hold her hand there.

  Every part of me tells me not to do this, not to put her in danger, not to cross a line in our friendship. But every part of me wants this. Even her fingertips on my mouth are making the blood rage through my veins so that I can hardly focus on the straight road ahead.

  I don't know what I'm going to do when I get her back to her house. I have to concentrate on driving and not veering off and taking her right here in the truck, at the side of the road. The desire to bury my burning wood inside her tightness is driving me close to insanity. All this time I've known Edie and we've spent a lot of nights together, even if there was three feet of wood bar separating us. But not one of those nights has this fever of need overtaken me. Her little fingers rub against my lips, letting me know she wants me to talk. I set her hand back down, high on my thigh and clamp it there, just in case she's thinking of retrieving it.

  “It wasn't until the first killing was all over the news that I realized,” I tell her.

  She gives my thigh muscle a friendly squeeze, urging me not to stop talking. For some reason I trust Edie, I want to tell her everything. I want her to know me so she can make a decision about being with me. Only when she knows everything can I claim her as mine without any qualms.

  “Some businessman was beaten to death in a back alley,” I continue. “When they described the unusual murder weapon and called it a ritual killing, I knew. But by then it was too late. The ugly Russian had already hired me to construct enough iron sculptures to murder half of Wall Street.”

  “Couldn't you have gone to the police and told them everything?” Edie wants to know, ever the pragmatist. And full of trust for her world, so long as it's not a man that has designs on getting too close.

  “He owns the police. I didn't run to escape the police or the Russian mob. I just wanted a life free of all the crap in this world.”

  “I think I understand that,” she whispers. “But it never goes away, even when you run away from it. It just comes with you, I've realized that now.”

  I park the truck in front of McDools and leap out to come around to her side. I open the door and help her climb out. Something tells me that smarmy stranger is responsible for the shot as well as the break in. I need to make sure she isn't in danger, even walking ten feet to her door.

  My glance goes to her windows, the new bars firmly in place. No one's coming in through those openings. Only the door is vulnerable. She unlocks it and I press her lower back to move her inside, stepping behind her to guard her. Then I kick the door closed with the back of my heel and pull Edie back into me.

  She tips her head up to kiss me but we're way past that now. I grip her hips and whip her around so her back is up against the door. Then recalling the last time we were kissing in a doorway, I pull her to one side so she's lining the wall, with my chest caging her in.

  Finally I get to rip those buttons open and her perfect full breasts are exposed in a red bra. Hot as the sight of that is, I need her naked. I pull the straps down over her shoulders and tug harder until the cups drop and her tits fall free.

  “Fuck, you're so damn beautiful, Edie,” I grunt, thinking no way do I deserve this perfect girl but wanting her anyway.

  “Quint, please,” she moans and I don't need any more instruction.

  My hand cups her full breast, relishing the sensuous weight of it in my palm before I tip my head down and bite the hard pellet prodding out. She moans and I take the other nipple between my finger and thumb to roll it around and tug it out until it extends, full of hungry desire.

  There's no doubt this amazing woman wants me. Her body is screaming my name. And she's had plenty of time to reconsider her decision. Crazy as this is, my burning blood and searing hard wood won't allow any more delay. I need her and I need her right now. I pick her up and her legs wrap around my waist, clamping hard.

  Her fingers dagger into my hair and hold on tight – hands, legs, she's not letting me go.

  “I need you so much it hurts,” she whimpers.

  “I need you too, Baby and it's gonna hurt cos I don't know how to be anything but hard.”

  “I want you hard.”

  Half a dozen strides across the empty barroom and we're at the bar. I set her down and she reaches out to me again but I catch her outstretched hand and flip her around so she's facing away from me. Her hands catch the edge of the bar as I push her forward, her gorgeous full tits swaying. Then I reach around and unzip her jeans while I bite on her ear.

  “Are you ready for how hard I'm about to take you?” I gruff into the shell as I pinch both puckered nipples.

  “Yes. I want you hard. Please.”

  I go back to the jeans, yanking them down with her panties in one go. I kneel at her feet and take each leg off, all the while half delirious with the aroma from her pussy. She's still bent forward over the bar, her back arched so her swollen clit is pushing out between her folds, so pink and luscious I can hardly wait to suck it between my lips.

  Chapter THIRTEEN

  Edie

  I wait breathlessly as Quint hauls my jeans down the length of my thighs, dragging my underwear along too. I wiggle my hips a little to help him drag them roughly over the curve of my hips and he lets out a low kind of growling sound, animalistic and sexy as hell.

  “You're so damn hot, Edie,” he rasps out, his voice cracking.

  Suddenly I do feel hot. Sexier as a woman than I've ever felt, because Quint makes me feel that way with his raw masculinity. As he lowers himself to his knees behind me, taking my pants all the way down my legs. The first blush of embarrassment from my slit being exposed to his gaze dissipates. It's replaced by wanton sensations of desire and confidence. His face is positioned right there, so the cool air of exposure that sets my clit pulsating is replaced by his hungry breath falling across my wetness. And I am wet, my inner thighs are already soaked.

  I shift my hips side to side again, slowly, just to hear that feral sound emanate from Quint's lips once more. He doesn't let me down, only this time it's more urgent. He tugs my pant leg off one foot, then the other, and then his palms slide up the inside of my thighs.

  He thumbs the flesh to press them apart, so more cold air and warm breath meet my slickness and I'm made even more vulnerable to him. There's something about that, being exposed to him, that incites intimacy along with the raw need.

  I undulate my hips to release some of the desire building and torturing me and then I almost come undone, right there bent over across my own bar. Quint palms my thighs further apart, opening me up even more and I feel the approach of his hot breath and burning rough skin. His tongue car
ves out a long swipe from the point of my clit all the way across my soaking entrance to the puckered rear.

  “Oh my god,” I moan and my head goes down on the wood surface to hold me up.

  I'm so weakened from the rush of pleasure that overtook me, I might buckle at the knees and melt into a pool in front of him.

  “Don't stop,” I husk out before I can stop myself, when I catch some breath.

  “I have no intention of stopping,” Quint rasps.

  The tip of his tongue flicks back and forth across my hard triangle point, teasing me then rubbing more firmly until I can't take it.

  “Not until you scream so loud those cowboys back at the ranch will have something to talk about.”

  I'm already close to screaming and howling something terrible as his tongue trails further back to find my opening. There he circles around the tight entrance and laps across the center, scooping up all the wetness onto his tongue.

  “Oh god,” I moan as I arch my back to spread wider onto his stiff tongue.

  “I know, Baby,” he gruffs, his breath on my pussy mouth making me tremble even more. “Relax.”

  “I can't relax,” I groan softly. “I want you inside me. I need you inside me. Now. I can't wait.”

  “You have to wait, Baby girl,” he murmurs, licking and rubbing more circles until I start to shake on his tongue. “You have to wait until I say you're ready.”

  “I'm ready,” I moan. “I'm ready now.”

  “Soon, Baby.”

  He's driving me to distraction and I can't stand it, but I love it. I've never known such delicious need pouring through every cell. Quint palms my butt cheeks and opens my entire chasm to his face. I'm way too far gone for shyness now. I grind back onto him, exposing every part of my most secret area to him, riding along his face as he prods into my hole with his hard tongue.

  Faster, with more strength jabbing inside me, he also rubs the flat across my clit. My forehead still heavy on the barhop, I reach my arms forward until I find the edge and curl my fingers around, digging in, clawing at the rounded edge looking for release of the luscious tension rising and rising in my thighs.